


tit for tat

by bazookajo94



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, But like for plot, Gay Disaster Andrew Minyard, Humor, M/M, Oblivious Neil Josten, doodling, how long can I make them trade before neil gives up?, literally everyone in this is socially awkward, panicking when he sees his crush, probably forever, the foxes conning neil into friendship and love, the foxes try to set up neil and andrew, their plan is a convoluted trading sequence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26569588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazookajo94/pseuds/bazookajo94
Summary: Someone told Neil that Renee Walker was a good person to approach about free textbooks.But Renee told Neil that she left the box of her old textbooks at her friend Andrew’s house, and Andrew told Neil he wouldn’t give him the box until he brought him a piece of Matt’s homemade pie, and Matt won’t give Neil a slice until he convinces Dan to go on a date with Matt, and Dan won’t go on a date with Matt until Allison gives back her lucky scrunchie…Neil just wanted some free books.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 71
Kudos: 706





	tit for tat

**Author's Note:**

> who isn't a fan of a convoluted trade sequence? 
> 
> anyways this is like the fluffiest thing i've ever written and im disgusted

Someone told Neil that Renee Walker was a good person to approach about free textbooks—or free anything, as long as the sob story was good enough. And Neil, with a lot of scars and a sordid past and zero friends and no money, thought he had a pretty good sob story.

It wasn’t hard to find Renee Walker; she could usually be found on the diagonal at some point during the week promoting a charity project or advertising a volunteer opportunity.

On a Monday the second week into the spring semester, Neil walked up to her booth, a bake-sale fundraiser for some hospital in the area, and asked, “Are you Renee Walker?”

Renee smiled at Neil, as if she were expecting him, but still answered, “Yes. And you are…?”

“Neil.”

“Hi, Neil. Would you like to buy a cookie? It’s for a good cause.”

“I don’t like cookies,” he said, but he pulled out five dollars anyways.

“Thank you.” Renee smiled at him as she accepted his money and busied herself with wrapping his cookie in a flimsy napkin and Neil watched, feeling a little out of his depth.

He said, “Someone told me you could help me get free textbooks.”

“Ah,” Renee said, as if everything was all cleared up, but she still wasn’t acting surprised that he was here. If anything, her expression grew more amused the longer he lingered at her booth, though she was still very heartily wrapping his cookie and he didn’t want to leave without it. Neil couldn’t understand why she was focusing so much of her attention on the cookie.

“So can you?” he asked, still a little unsure about this whole altercation but not wanting to spend another twelve hundred dollars on text books again like he had last semester. He didn’t have a lot of money anymore, and his scholarship only covered the cost of tuition. Neil had a job, but he worked just enough hours to keep busy between classes and homework and to pay his housing—he didn’t want to waste what little money he had on books he’d only use for one semester before selling for ten percent of the price he paid for them.

Renee hummed, as if to think about it, but her gaze was steady and sure, as if her mind was already made up. Neil was very confused.

Renee asked, “What classes are you taking?”

He listed off the few general courses he had to take this semester, and Renee nodded after each class mentioned. “Yes, I think I have a few you can have. Probably not the Physics one, unfortunately.”

“That’s okay,” Neil said, except that it kind of wasn’t because that was his most expensive book. But three out of four wasn’t bad. “I appreciate your help.”

Renee beamed. “Of course. You’ll have to get them from my friend’s house, though. I just moved out and haven’t gotten all of my boxes out of the dorm room yet.”

Neil nodded. “Okay. And where is that?”

Renee wrote down the address on one of the flimsy napkins with the pen she had been using to hold her pale blonde and pastel hair atop her head. She handed the address and, finally, Neil’s cookie to him, though now that he had the parcel in his hand, he could feel two wrapped securely in the paper.

“I don’t like cookies,” he said again, baffled, a little helpless.

Neil thought he saw Renee’s grin turn devious when she said, “Give one to my friend, won’t you? Tell him Renee sends her best wishes.”

*

After the very odd interaction he had with Renee (wasn’t he supposed to offer some sort of sob story?), Neil went to the dorm listed on the slip of paper, trudged up three flights of stairs, knocked on room 305, and waited, and waited.

And waited.

He would have given up and left sooner but he had heard movement behind the door when he knocked, and he would have knocked again except that he didn’t really feel like it, so he just stood there and considered his options and debated trying to shove the cookies under the door when finally the door swung open and there was Andrew Minyard.

Neil’s face lightened in recognition, and so did Andrew’s, except Neil could hear that Andrew’s hand had slipped on the doorknob after he twisted it farther than it could go, and Neil cocked his head at the forceful motion paired with the apathetic expression on Andrew’s face. Strange.

“Andrew,” Neil greeted.

“Neil.”

Neil held out the cookies. Andrew stared at them. “Renee sends her best wishes,” Neil said when Andrew still hadn’t moved to take them. Neil thought about slipping them in Andrew’s coat pocket. “She said she had some textbooks here for me? In a box?” Neil continued after a minute of Andrew staring at Neil’s hand and Neil staring at Andrew’s face.

“Why,” Andrew said.

“Free stuff,” Neil answered.

“In a box?”

“She just moved and left this box behind?”

“Hm.”

Neil didn’t feel equipped with enough social understanding to handle this conversation. Just like with Renee, Neil wondered if this was how normal people interacted. He wouldn’t know; he’d only been a real person for two years.

Andrew wouldn’t look at Neil, and he hadn’t taken his hand off the doorknob, and Neil hadn’t dropped his hand from holding out the cookies he paid five dollars for but was going to a good cause.

“Are they here?” Neil asked. “The textbooks.”

“Pie,” Andrew answered. 

“Um.” Neil blinked. “What?”

“Matt.”

“ _Who_?”

Andrew pointed to the door across the hall and said nothing.

“Pie?” Neil asked, a little desperately.

Andrew nodded and then closed the door.

Neil turned around. He still had the cookies in his hand, and the napkin was starting to get a little soggy with his sweat and the warmth and the chocolate from the treat. “Um,” he said, and moved to knock on the door across the hall.

*

A big, tall, grinning man answered. “Hey, my dude!” he greeted Neil, like a friend, and, on impulse, Neil held out the cookies as a friendly offer.

“Nah, I’m good,” the big, tall, grinning man said, stepping aside to let Neil in as if they weren’t complete, absolute strangers.

“Please take them,” Neil entreated, desperate, confused.

The big, tall, grinning man shook his head. “So, what’s up?”

“I’m Neil,” Neil said.

Big, Tall, Grinning Man nodded like he already knew. “I’m Matt.”

Neil didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know why he was here. He said, hesitantly, “Pie?” like it was some sort of code that Matt would understand because Neil sure as hell didn’t.

Matt nodded again, still in complete understanding, and Neil thought about shoving the sweaty cookies in his own mouth because he suddenly didn’t feel like he understood anything at all anymore.

“For Andrew?” Matt guessed, and some of Neil’s tension relaxed. Okay. So maybe something did make sense after all. Except, after a sly grin that Neil only caught the glimpse of for half a second, Matt drawled, “See, though, I’ve got a problem. I was supposed to go on a date with Dan, and the little fucker pissed her off so bad she turned down date night to cool off. Do you know what that’s like, dude?”

“Totally,” Neil lied, because, um.

“So unless you can get Dan to agree to a date with me, I ain’t givin’ Andrew shit. And you can tell him it’s peach.”

“The pie?” Neil guessed, because, um, _what_ —

Matt nodded, and then clapped a heavy hand on Neil’s shoulder. “I knew you’d understand, buddy. So no date, no pie, right?”

“Right.” Neil turned around to leave—or was he supposed to go back to Andrew and tell him it’s peach?

Matt said from behind him, “Don’t you want to know where Dan lives?”

“Uh.” Did he? Neil suddenly realized he didn’t even know who Dan was—which shouldn’t have been such a revelation, but it felt like one anyways. “Yes.”

Matt scrawled something on a post-it and handed it to Neil.

Neil left, dazed, but he did delicately place the two cookies in front of Andrew’s door, licking the sweaty chocolate off his palms as he went in search of Dan.

*

Andrew and Neil had had English 1010 together last semester. Their teacher focused a lot on poetry, and made them write a lot of poems, and Andrew had skipped the first two classes and Neil had missed the third but they both showed up for the fourth, and as soon as Andrew had walked into class he saw Neil, sat next to Neil, and didn’t talk to Neil for the rest of the hour. After that day, Andrew didn't skip again and he sat next to Neil every class and he never wrote any poetry but he read Neil’s shitty attempts and doodled in the margins instead of providing feedback, except for one day when Neil tried to write a funny poem about foxes and Andrew had written “what the fuck” in red pen over the top of the whole poem and drew a big red X over Neil’s name and wrote "bitch" underneath it and scribbled over the date and wrote “04/20/69” beside it. 

Neil had smiled at him that day, and Andrew had just stood up and left in the middle of class, crumpling Neil’s poem in his hand but keeping it in his fist as he walked out. 

*

Neil knocked on what he hoped was the right door. There was a whiteboard nailed on the front and all it had on it was a giant, grotesquely accurate penis with a signature that said “xoxo allison” in swirly pink marker.

A woman opened the door, with short dark hair and toned muscles, and she grinned at Neil like the cat in the cream. 

“Ah, Neil,” she greeted, and Neil once again wondered if he actually has known Dan all this time. 

“Dan,” he said, wondering if he should smile. “Date?” he asked, on behalf of Matt. 

“Yes,” she said, and Neil brightened, thinking all this was over now, except he hadn’t mentioned Matt by name and now he wasn’t so sure they _were_ on the same page. 

“With Matt?” he asked, and Dan, still smiling, shook her head. Neil frowned. “Who did you think the date was with?”

“You, kid.” She laughed. 

“But...date night?” he asked. His voice cracked. He didn’t know what was going on. Did he just ask a woman out on a date? 

Dan shrugged. “Nah. I don’t wanna go on a date with Matt.”

“But I need pie.”

Dan’s grin turned dangerous, and Neil flushed, though he didn’t know why. Dan threw her head back and laughed very hard, and Neil almost turned around and left, books be damned. 

“Oh, honey, I think I get it now,” Dan crowed, wiping her eyes and propping a hip against the doorframe and crossing her arms. Her expression was very warm, and Neil was back to wondering if he’s known Dan for a long time or not. Where even was he right now? Was he still Neil?

“Get what?” he asked.

“I want my scrunchie,” Dan told him abruptly. 

“What?”

“Allison has it. It’s my lucky scrunchie.”

“What is a scrunchie?” Neil flushed again, worried he just said something inappropriate. Dan seemed to bite back her laugh this time, sucking in her lips and waiting for a moment to get back under control. 

She said, “A hair tie, Neil.”

“Oh. And then you’ll go on a date with Matt?”

“Yes, Neil.”

Neil was about to ask where he could find Allison when he stole a glance at the penis. “Isn’t she your roommate?” Neil asked. 

“Yes,” Dan said. He thought he heard a muffled laugh behind the door. 

“Isn’t she in there?” he asked, dubious and confused.

Dan shook her head, sucking in her lips again. 

“Where can I find her?” he asked, knowing he could find her behind the door. 

“Maybe you should go ask Andrew where she is.”

“Why?” he asked, but Dan took a step back and closed the door in his face. 

Neil sighed. 

*

Neil didn’t go to Andrew’s for an hour, partly out of resigned frustration and partly because he had a class. After leaving his class with two assignments he’d need a textbook for, Neil forwent getting dinner and walked to Andrew’s for the second time that day.

He knocked, and after five minutes where he heard Andrew pour himself a glass of water and then presumably drink it, Andrew answered the door, not nearly as surprised this time to see Neil. 

“Scrunchie,” Neil said after Andrew opened the door and leaned against the frame with his hands in his jacket pocket. 

“Is that a euphemism?” Andrew asked. 

“I hope not.”

“Why are you here for a scrunchie.”

“So Dan will go on a date with Matt.” Andrew raised a brow. “Where is Allison?” Neil asked.

“Why the fuck would I know.”

“I just need to find Dan’s lucky scrunchie and Allison has it, I guess.”

“I thought you needed textbooks.”

Neil raised his eyebrows. “So you don’t want pie?” At the mention of food, Neil’s stomach growled. He wasn’t embarrassed, but Andrew’s suddenly intense focus on Neil’s belly made him blush. 

“Hungry?” Andrew asked blandly.

Neil grinned. “Is that a euphemism?” 

Andrew considered Neil for a moment before he pushed off the door and closed it behind him. He started walking down the hall, and Neil didn’t know if he was supposed to follow or not.

“Allison?” Neil called after him.

“After dinner,” Andrew called back.

Neil, still smiling, followed.

*

“Where’s Allison?”

“You’re welcome for dinner.”

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Why do you like fish.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Tastes like ass.”

“And you would know?”

“Yes.”

A heavy pause, and then Neil’s face flamed. Andrew didn’t smile, but he certainly looked amused. “Allison is at her dorm,” he told Neil.

“God-fucking-dammit.”

*

Neil returned to Dan and Allison’s dorm the next day because he didn’t want to talk to anyone anymore after Andrew. He struggled to remember what chain to follow back as soon as he had the scrunchie: give hair tie to Dan, tell Matt Dan agreed to a date, get pie, give pie to Andrew, get textbooks from Andrew. Was he supposed to give something to Renee? He couldn’t remember anymore. 

He knocked on the door, staring at the stick figure couple now on the whiteboard as he waited. One of the figures was smiling and had marks on his cheeks that Neil thought were poorly rendered blush marks until he stared some more and realized, oh, actually, those might be scars? Neil frowned, looking at the other stick figure, who was frowning and had a snarling mouth with sharp teeth and was holding a knife. They were holding hands and surrounded by hearts. 

The door opened. A tall blonde stood before him, and she was already smirking at Neil with a knowing look in her eye. 

Neil was still frowning. “Scrunchie,” he said.

“Allison,” she introduced herself. She was still smirking.

“Where’s the hair tie?” He didn’t want to say scrunchie anymore.

“Don’t I get a date, too, or was that just for Dan?” Allison purred, and Neil’s fists clenched. 

“I just want my textbooks,” he told her, desperate. 

“I don’t know anything about books, sweetie.”

“Please,” Neil said. 

“Hey, do you know Kevin Day?” she asked suddenly, and Neil had a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“No.” Should he?

“He’s on the soccer team. Kinda cute? Weird tattoo on his face?”

“Okay?” 

“I need an autograph.”

“What?”

“I want his autograph. Preferably on a signed picture of him. Preferably shirtless.”

“How am I supposed to find that?” 

“Sounds like a personal problem, sweetie.” Allison ran a manicured finger along one of Neil’s cheeks before curling it under his chin and chuffing it like some old grandmother. Neil, who hadn’t had to resort to murder in a long time, suddenly remembered what that was like. He scowled at Allison and jerked his face away. 

Allison laughed at him, like he was her misbehaving grandson, and curled her finger under her own chin. “Hey, you know what? I think Andrew has what you’re looking for.”

“My textbooks?” Neil asked wryly, already turning away and stomping back to Andrew’s goddamn apartment.

Allison laughed at his retreating figure.

*

When Neil knocked on Andrew’s door, a tall, dark haired man opened it and immediately delighted at Neil’s presence.

“Oh my god, yay!” he exclaimed. “My turn!”

“What?” 

“I’m Nicky,” Nicky said, and then reached out and ruffled Neil’s hair. Neil didn’t understand why so many people were touching him today. 

“I’m looking for Andrew,” Neil told him.

Nicky’s impossibly big grin grew impossibly bigger. “Wonderful! Yes! He’s not here.” 

Neil closed his eyes. Deflated. “Where is he?” 

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” he asked, resigned.

“I need you to do something for me first.” 

“Please do not ask for half naked pictures of Kevin Day,” Neil said, opening his eyes just in time to see Nicky throw his head back and laugh. 

“You’ll do, won’t you, Neil?” Nicky said, and then left his apartment, and Neil fell into step with him. “Don’t worry; this won’t take long. I just want to have lunch with you before my next class.”

Neil was a bit startled. “That’s it?” he asked, just to make sure, because it felt too easy. “Just lunch?”

Nicky ruffled his hair again. “Just lunch.”

*

In their English class last semester, Neil and Andrew’s professor assigned them a literary analysis of the short story, “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” Their professor even read the short story aloud to them, so Neil vaguely listened while he doodled in his notebook and watched Andrew fiddle with his pen out of the corner of his eye. It took him a minute to notice that Andrew’s restlessness wasn’t just the result of a very boring short story but rather a reaction to the class’s discussion about it. 

“It was a different time back when this story was published,” their teacher was saying, and Andrew’s fingers were almost blinding as he twirled his pen, staring straight ahead at nothing at all. “It was more acceptable back in that time period to see an older man with a younger child in media. This story isn’t about pedophilia, guys. I understand that—” She proceeded to explain what the short story was meant to be about, and how everyone should look passed what could be seen as pedophilic behavior in today’s culture and instead focus on the wartime PTSD, but Andrew’s knee was bouncing now, and Neil couldn’t understand why Andrew wouldn’t just leave when he hadn’t had a problem with ditching before. 

Neil stood up suddenly. Andrew stopped fiddling with his pen, stopped bouncing his leg. Watched as Neil put his stuff away. Neil stared down at Andrew and, after a moment, Andrew stood up, and they left class together. 

For a while Neil led them aimlessly around the building, taking the elevator two flights down just to walk up the stairs one floor just to take the elevator three flights up and the stairs four down. Andrew followed and didn’t speak, and Neil led and didn’t ask, and eventually they ended up at the cafe near the library and Neil bought them both drinks. Neil sipped his water and Andrew sucked up the whipped cream pushing out of the tiny hole of the lid on his obnoxious order of coffee. There was some residual cream on Andrew’s upper lip after his slurp, and Neil reached out a hand and brushed it off. Andrew watched unblinking as Neil licked the cream off his thumb.

Neil raised his brows and tilted his head toward outside, a silent offer to keep walking around campus, but Andrew sat at a table and sucked from his straw and didn’t look at Neil, so Neil shrugged and went to his next class.

*

After lunch with Nicky—which was fine, a bit random, and Nicky was a bit rambly, but Neil didn’t hate it—Nicky told him he could find Andrew at his welding lab working on a project. 

It took a minute before Neil found where the shop was but it didn’t take as long to find which of the men working was Andrew—there were only so few people on campus with arms that big but stature that small. Not wanting to disturb Andrew who was working with literal fire, Neil leaned against the wall and found himself admiring the flex of Andrew’s muscles while he twisted and shaped whatever he was working on. Neil didn’t know how practical it was to wear a black tank top and armbands while welding, but Neil didn’t know jack shit about welding, so he contented himself with watching Andrew’s sweaty arms streaked with some black substance (soot? dirt?) condensed into the moisture on his skin. 

Neil almost hadn’t noticed when Andrew stopped working and looked up at Neil—probably looked up at him? The helmet over Andrew’s entire head made it hard to tell. Neil, blaming the heat of the shop on his red face, pushed off the wall and walked up to Andrew, who didn’t remove the helmet even when Neil stood in front of him. 

Neil glanced down at what Andrew was making. “Knives?” he asked blandly, but he was smiling a little. 

“Perfect for stabbing,” Andrew said, voice muffled. Neil’s smile grew bigger. He tracked a trail of sweat making a slow path from behind Andrew’s ear down his neck. Neil took a deep breath. Why was it so hot in here?

Neil cleared his throat. Said, a bit breathless, “I need a picture of Kevin half naked.”

Andrew, unfazed (probably? The helmet was still on) asked, “Which half?”

“I have options?”

Andrew ignored that. “Why do you need a picture of Kevin half naked?”

“For Allison.”

Andrew looked down at his knife. Tapped the tip of it on the table for a minute. Sighed softly. He finally took the headgear off, and Neil took a moment to study the flush on Andrew’s cheeks and the fading focus from his eyes as he transitioned out of work mode. 

Unexpectedly, he handed Neil the helmet. “I don’t know how to weld,” Neil told him, confused, but he took the helmet, his scarred fingers brushing Andrew’s hot ones. 

Andrew, remaining silent, gestured for Neil to put it on. Neil, unsure but willing, put the heavy piece of hard plastic over his head. “Um,” he said, his voice sounding stuffy and unfamiliar through the helmet. Everything had a green tint now, and Neil watched as Andrew picked up the blowtorch and turned it on. Suddenly, Neil’s field of vision went from green to pitch black and the only thing that existed were the sparks emitted from the torch. Neil stared in wonder. After a moment, Andrew turned the torch off, and when Neil took the helmet off, he was grinning, hair askew, cheeks red. 

“Cool,” he said, and Andrew rolled his eyes as if it was Neil’s idea to show off the super cool welding trick. “Anything else you want to show me?” Neil had no way to explain the tone in his voice, but he blamed it entirely on how hot it was in this goddamn shop.

Andrew held Neil’s gaze for a full five seconds before saying, “Was that a euphemism?” 

Neil laughed.

*

Andrew led Neil back to his dorm after cleaning up his station. Neil didn’t follow Andrew inside, and Andrew didn’t pause to make him, so Neil made himself comfortable in the doorway and thought about all the homework he wasn’t doing while he waited for Andrew to return with a half naked photo of Kevin Day. 

When Andrew came back, however, he handed Neil a photo of a distorted picture of a dark haired man who appeared to be mid-chew with a weird filter over his face that made his head look large but his body look tiny. 

“Um,” Neil said, but Andrew’s expression didn’t change at all when he answered, “Snapchat.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Andrew sighed again.

“Can you tell me where to find Kevin?” Neil asked.

“No.” Andrew slammed the door in his face.

*

Neil didn’t know who to go for to ask how to find Kevin. He was afraid that if he asked one of Andrew’s friends they would just make him do something in return. Maybe if he went to Nicky? But then he’d have to go back to Andrew’s dorm, and Andrew had already closed the door on his face, and Neil still felt a little hot from the welding lab, so Neil decided that the easiest way to find Kevin would be to wander around campus until he found the soccer player. 

But after two hours and no sightings, Neil decided to forgo pride or any sort of social convention and go into the sports’ teams locker rooms. Athletes never left the field, right?

Neil walked in like he owned the place, drawing on old habits of pretending he was where he was supposed to be at all times, and followed the sound of voices and the smell of sweat and astroturf and hoped that meant it was the soccer team making raunchy jokes. Before he turned the corner, Neil looked one last time at the strange photo Andrew gave him, studying the black tattoo under Kevin’s eye that looked a little phallic through the distortion, and walked into the collection of men in various degrees of undress. Luckily, it wasn’t hard to miss Kevin day, who was very tall and very tan, and Neil walked right up to him, ignoring the stares and, weirdly enough, wolf whistles. 

Why did all these interactions feel like Neil was about to ask someone on a date? 

“I need your autograph,” Neil told Kevin without preamble, and a few of the men whistled louder, a few of them cheered. 

“What?” Kevin asked, but Neil was well versed in noticing when someone recognized him, especially in these last few days, and Neil knew that Kevin knew he was coming. 

“Cut the shit. Sign the picture.” Neil held it up, and Kevin’s stoic expression suddenly turned aggrieved at the unflattering picture of himself. 

“Goddammit, Allison,” Kevin muttered.

“This is from Andrew.”

Kevin’s face grew more pained. “Goddammit, Andrew.”

“Sign it,” Neil said again, annoyed, and Kevin shook his head.

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“ _No_.”

“ _Yes_.”

“I...need something first.”

Neil, a little hysterical, said, “Oh, hell, what? What do you need first? A candlelit dinner?” 

Kevin frowned as a few of the men broke out into raucous laughter. 

“No I need…” Kevin stopped to think, and Neil’s anger started to take a dangerous turn. He tried not to crumple the photo in his hand while he waited. “I need...a piece of Matt’s pie.”

Neil, furious, spat, “I can’t get that until you sign this so I can give it to Allison to get the hair tie to get the date to get the pie.” _To get my books,_ he added, as an afterthought. That’s what all this was about, right? Neil almost forgot. 

“Oh.” Kevin blinked. “Right. Then I need...German notes from Nicky. I missed last class.”

Neil suddenly, desperately, did not want to go talk to Nicky again. He said, frantic, wanting this to be over, “I’ll help you with your German.”

Kevin frowned. “I don’t need _your_ help.”

“But you need Nicky’s?” 

“Er. Yes.” 

“Are you kidding me?” 

Kevin seemed to find his condescension again. He stared down at Neil under his nose and said, resolutely, “No notes, no autograph.”

“Right,” Neil said, and stiffly left the locker room to a chorus of taunts and sneers. 

*

One of their last assignments in their English class had been to write a personal narrative, and Neil didn’t know how to write “My dad was a mob boss and sold me to the yakuza but my mom kidnapped me from the yakuza before they could do anything and so I was on the run for years until my gangster uncle dismantled the yakuza with the help of the FBI and my father was murdered in the process but not before he killed my mother and kidnapped and tortured me all before I was eighteen but I didn’t want to go live with my gangster uncle so for one year of my life I was put into the foster system where I shuffled between a few houses before settling in the house of an old couple that took me in out of pity but had not enough energy or compassion to keep in contact with me after I left as soon as I was eighteen” in a concise five pages.

Neil decided to write about the last few months he spent with the MacKenzies before he was eighteen, where he struggled with becoming a real person in an unknown house with people who didn’t know him and who would never understand. They couldn’t even stomach to look at the scars on his face, but they fed him and sheltered him and told him he could always call them if he needed help, though they all three knew he never would. 

And Neil may not have liked them nor cared that they didn’t care about him enough to love him, but he did appreciate that he wasn’t alone when he was forced to discover who he was, who he could be, and so he ended his narrative saying that though he deleted their phone number, he still searched the obituaries every once in a while, hoping that he wouldn’t see them dead but wanting to know when they were gone so he could go and say goodbye one last time. 

Andrew read his paper in silence while Neil doodled on Andrew’s paper, which was a one page document, single-spaced, that just said Neil’s name over and over again. 

When Andrew was done he handed the paper back and looked first at Neil’s hands, crosshatched and burned, to his wrists, ravaged and discolored, and then his arms, with burns and marks hidden under his sleeves, to his neck, bare, to his cheeks, burned and disfigured, to his eyes, which Neil knew were the blue of his father but he couldn’t hide them, not anymore. He stared and stared, and Neil didn’t know how to breath around the look in Andrew’s eyes. 

Neil, self-conscious, had tried to smile at Andrew, had asked if he was okay, if he liked the paper, but Andrew had just taken his own paper back, not bothering to look at Neil’s subpar doodles of swirls and monsters and teeth, and left. Neil frowned, confused, and shuffled through the pages Andrew had read for him, finding no notes, no jokes, no marks at all, and Neil didn’t understand what had happened, but he felt seen and exposed and, inexplicably, he wanted Andrew to come back as soon as he was gone. 

*

Neil did not want to go back to Andrew’s dorm, but he didn’t know what else to do. So he went to class and then went to his own dorm and did what homework he could without his stupid textbooks and then he went somewhere on campus to buy a sad dinner and saw Andrew sitting at one of the computers in the student lounge playing Hearts while everyone around him struggled through assignments. 

Neil collapsed in the seat beside him and laid his head down, listening to the soft clicks of Andrew’s mouse. After a minute, Andrew asked, “What now?” 

Neil, so tired and frustrated, started answering Andrew in German, just to prove to himself that he would have been loads better at helping Kevin with his notes: “I have to get stupid notes for your stupid friend to get his stupid autograph. Can you believe he trusts Nicky over me? I mean I know I’ve only known Nicky for an hour but I already know he lived in Germany for a year but so did _I_ and clearly I’m better at this, right?” Neil lifted his head to find Andrew staring at him impassively. “Right, Andrew?” Neil asked again, in English this time. 

Andrew replied, in a deadpan tone, in German, “Where is the bathroom? What is your name? Where are you from? Where are we from? Where am I from?”

Neil laughed. “Can you teach me how to play Hearts?” he asked, and Andrew returned his attention to his computer.

“No.”

“What if you told me where Nicky was?”

“How does that benefit me?” 

“I would leave and stop bothering you.”

Andrew hummed, but he didn’t tell Neil where Nicky was nor how to play Hearts, so Neil watched him play two more games before heaving a sigh and leaving to find Nicky.

*

“Neil! You’re back!”

“I need your German notes.”

“Oh, tough break, buddy. I leant those to Allison.”

“Great.”

*

“I need Nicky’s German notes.”

“And I need a pedicure.”

“Okay?”

“So I’ll tell you where they are once you go with me.”

“I don’t even know what a pedicure is.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yeah. Can’t you just give me the notes?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

*

“Neilio! Back again, my dude?”

“Hey, Matt. Allison said she left her backpack here?”

“She might have!”

“... so can you tell me where it is?”

“Nope! Hey, do you like video games?”

“I don’t know.”

“Haha! Okay, let’s play.”

“Sure. Okay. Great. And then you’ll tell me?” 

“You’ll probably have to ask Andrew about that.”

“I’ll have to ask Andrew about where I can find Allison’s backpack in your apartment?”

“Yes! But first, how do you feel about first person shooters?”

“I prefer not to be shot.”

“Haha! Don’t we all, dude.”

*

“I don’t even think there’s any pie left, so can’t you change the conditions?”

“No.”

“What are we even doing here? I thought you hated the library.”

“Sh.”

“Andrew, just tell me where her backpack is.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s wearing it.”

“Fuck.”

*

“Neil! Here to ask for another date?”

“No, Dan. I’m here for Allison again.”

“Well, I could tell you where she is, but I’m thinking first we should go play soccer with Kevin.”

“For the love of god, _why_?”

“Because it sounds fun?”

“I guess?” 

*

“Kevin, please, just tell me where Allison’s backpack is, I’m begging you. It has your notes.” 

“I don’t know where Allison is. Where did you learn to run so fast?” 

“By literally running; what the fuck does that even mean, where did I learn to run so fast?” 

“Let’s play another game.” 

“Jesus Christ, _fine._ ”

*

Neil couldn’t remember being this social his entire life, and though he was exhausted and frustrated and confused, it was also turning into the best week of his life. 

He still wanted his textbooks, though.

*

Neil was finally admitted into Andrew’s room. He was currently sprawled on their couch, his head near hanging off the end and his feet over the back. Andrew was sitting on the floor with his back propped against the couch and playing some game on his phone that Neil was absentmindedly watching when Neil eventually said, “I just need you to tell me the special brand of pens that Kevin uses.” 

“Why me?”

“I don’t know. They always send me to you.”

“Hm.”

“Can you just tell me? Just tell me.”

Andrew paused his game and turned his head to face Neil. Neil hadn’t realized their faces were so close, but he didn’t move away and neither did Andrew. 

Andrew, quietly, asked, “Why?”

Neil, quietly, answered, “I just want this to be over.” 

Andrew stared at Neil’s lips for two seconds before looking back down at his phone. He said, “Renee will help you.” 

Neil, feeling like that was a dismissal, nodded silently and stood up. He went to find Renee, leaving Andrew alone on the floor, staring at his phone though he hadn’t started his game again.

*

“Hi, Neil.”

“Hi, Renee.” 

“I’ve been told you could help me.”

“Of course. What do you need?”

*

Neil gave the pens to Kevin, who told him where to find Allison, who gave him Nicky’s notes, so Neil gave them to Kevin, who signed his autograph, so Neil gave Allison the picture, who gave him the scrunchie, so Neil gave the hair tie to Dan (who, Neil just realized, didn’t have hair long enough to tie back), who agreed to a date with Matt, who gave Neil a slice of pie (freshly baked, since the other pie hadn’t survived this long), so Neil gave a slice to Andrew, who led him to the box of textbooks in the middle of Andrew’s own room. 

They both stared down at it. Neil, having waited for this moment for almost two weeks, felt empty at the sight of it. 

“Aren’t you going to take them?” Andrew asked.

Neil didn’t move toward them. “Are you never going to talk to me again if I do?” 

Andrew remained silent. Neil, still staring at the books, said, “You never came back. After that day.”

“What day?”

“You know what day.”

When Andrew didn’t say anything for a long time, Neil finally turned to face him. Andrew was staring out his window, and every muscle in his body was tight. Neil became sad at the sight, at his silence, at all of this. 

“Okay, Andrew,” Neil said softly, and then turned to leave, not grabbing a single book, not caring anymore, not caring at all.

*

Neil didn’t go back for the textbooks, but he didn’t buy any, either. He finally mustered up enough in him to just ask another classmate to study with for the assignments he couldn’t fake, and he barely held on to his GPA, and he hadn’t realized how quiet and difficult his days were when he had no one else in them.

*

Neil had fallen asleep in the library between classes, and when he woke up, Andrew was sitting in the chair across from him, doodling on a piece of paper. Neil watched him for a while, unsure what to think, didn’t know what to hope for, until Andrew sat up and slid the paper across the table toward Neil. Neil pulled it closer to him with the tip of his fingers.

It was Andrew’s personal narrative from last semester, the one with Neil’s name and doodles all over it, except now it had a lot more doodles: swirly hearts, a grotesquely accurate penis, a stickman killing another stickman, and tons of notes from multiple handwritings, things that said, “omg andrew, who????” “is he cute?” “A + N 4ever” “dangling participle” followed immediately by “dangle these balls.” 

Toward the bottom it said, “so are you dating? like are you gonna date?” and underneath that it had a resolute “no” that had been circled and underlined a lot—now crossed out in red ink with a “maybe” right next to it. 

Neil looked up. Andrew was staring down at Neil’s hands, and his cheeks were pink. In his hands was a red pen. 

Neil, grinning, reached out toward Andrew and was only a little startled when Andrew reached back.

*

*

*

*

*

_“Just let me date Katelyn.”_

_“I’ll let you date Katelyn if you can get Neil to date me.”_

_“Is Neil that guy you’ve been pining for for half the fucking year?”_

_“And you’re any better?”_

_“So if I can get Neil to date you you’ll leave us alone?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Fine.”_

*

_“Hey, man are you looking for free textbooks?”_

_“Oh, um. Yeah?”_

_“I know a guy. Or, rather, a girl.”_


End file.
